


The Needles Spin

by AwkwardDesigns_13



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Memory Loss, the compasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29363565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardDesigns_13/pseuds/AwkwardDesigns_13
Summary: An AU in which neither Tommy or Tubbo survive. And Ranboo is left to deal with it without help.
Kudos: 61





	The Needles Spin

It was raining.

Ranboo couldn’t really leave his house without an umbrella and it was horrid. The blank and dark sky pressed down on him and he hated the feeling. It was the worst part of being so tall, any pressure pushed down on him.

He states out into the weather, searching for… something.

He can’t remember what but he was looking for something. Someone had told him yesterday that he should look for something…

He could barely even remember yesterday, but what was new about that. He couldn’t even remember what he’d had for breakfast or if he’d even eaten anything.

At that thought his stomach grumbles and he pulls out some bread. It was stale. He must not have made any new food in the past few days. Weird.

Through the crack in his door he can see Phil on the roof of Technoblade’s house. He supposed it was probably Phil’s house too at this point. What person sits on the roof of a house they don’t own?

He doesn’t know why, but Phil seems tired. More than normal. He must be feeling the weather too. That was definitely it. 

Technoblade didn’t seem to be home, the house was dark at the very least, and there was no lingering noise of him shuffling around, at least from this distance there wasn’t.

Ranboo moves to sit on the edge of his bed, away from the now heavy rain and thunder. The walls at least muffled it, but he could do better.

He pulls a disc out and plays some soft music, not loud enough that anyone could hear it but him. The background noise was perfect for writing, and he should probably do more of that, judging by the sheer lack of memory in the past few days.

He opens up a worn leather book and scans for any recent entries. Nothing new, nothing he didn’t already remember scribbling down in his chicken scratch writing.

The last passage was dated three days ago.

_ “Everyone seems so on edge, I wish the rain would stop so I could try and talk to people easier. I could try to make it to the nether, someone is probably there. _

_ Maybe I should visit Tubbo. He’s not so stressed. I just hope he won’t experiment on me, but he seems so much more relaxed than last time. _

_ Ghostbur said he was using more blue. I guess that helps? Like a drug maybe. I don’t know, I missed that bit. _

_ Whatever. I’m going to go visit Tubbo.” _

So he’d gone to see his friend. That wasn’t so bad. 

He’d supposedly done worse when he couldn’t remember, at least according to dream. But that was another mess entirely.

He huffs softly and starts scratching letters into the rough paper. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something at the very least.

_ “I don’t remember the past three days. I don’t even remember seeing Tubbo. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, but I’m stuck inside for now. _

_ The rain hasn’t stopped yet and I don’t know if I want to leave? I’m supposed to look for something, but I don’t know what and I don’t know who told me to look-“ _

The disc ends and Ranboo looks up to see the rain has slowed to a trickle. He should do something then.

Sitting for so long had him ansty. 

————————

The sky doesn’t get any lighter as he walks. Ranboo covers his head with his jacket and keeps a steady pace. 

He didn’t actually go to check on Phil like he should have, it just seemed like he wanted to be alone. So he’s currently on a trek to find Tubbo. He was a good clue to what he was doing for the past few days.

It would take a while to walk there, so he hops through the nether portal. The dray heat feels good and he shakes out his jacket before sliding it back on. A clunk in his pocket pulls his attention though. 

How did he not notice before? A compass rests in his pocket, a bit beat up, with scorch marks on the sides, but it still works. 

As well as a compass normally worked in the nether. The needle spins lazily back and forth, not set on any direction.

It probably had something to do with the past few days but he doesn’t pay it a lot of mind before tucking it away and setting off along paths carved and built into the nether.

It was quiet enough here that Ranboo could hear every noise. The bubbling of the lava, The fire crackling, piglins squealing in the distance. It would be nice and normal if it wasn’t for the soft sniffling he hears from around the corner. 

Ranboo stops in his tracks, listening for the source. It’s two different soft noises. One person sniffling and another mumbling softly.

He leans in to try and catch a word or two.

“It’s okay, you’re okay, I know it hurts-“

What? Sam? Why did he sound so hurt?

“I don’t want to be okay Sam, I wanted to save them…” 

Puffy was crying? This was… this wasn’t his business.

He turns and silently walks down a different path.

Maybe some things weren’t made to be remembered. He shouldn’t have seen that. Seen them so vulnerable. Too bad he couldn’t choose what he remembered.

It doesn’t take long, or well, he doesn’t pay attention to the travel, to get to the exit portal. It was the closest one to Tubbo’s house, but he’d still have enough time to think, maybe write, on his way over.

———————

He doesn’t end up doing much writing one his way there, instead getting distracted by grass blocks. He picks up a few nice ones to give to his friend and ends up arriving at Tubbo's house with a big smile. 

The house is silent, but a crack of thunder scares him into sliding inside. It was empty, and far far colder than Tubbo had ever let it get. While he was hiding from the weather the least he could do was light some torches.

It still felt frigid, and the sudden downpour does nothing to help the tension tight in his shoulders. He would normally curl up with Enderchest in this weather but she was all the way back home and he should stay awake for whenever Tubbo got home.

He can only stand the silence for so long before he remembers the compass in his pocket.

It’s still spinning wildly. So it’s a bit more broken than originally thought. He turns it over in his hands and feels a rough and half scratched away inscription. He can’t read it, but it feels familiar. It tugs at memories in the back of his brain and tears sprang to his eyes without his knowledge of why.

Without realizing it he shuffles over to a chest by the bed, a small lock on it already broken and easy to open. 

Another compass lay at the bottom.

It too is spinning wildly and he picks it up, holding one in either hand.

The new compass is much less damaged, so he can read the inscription.

_ “Your Tommy” _

Thick tears plop onto the glass of the compasses and sizzle against his skin. He can’t stop them from falling, can’t even blink them away.

He can’t remember why he’s crying but the compasses make him sad.

It feels like he’s missing something, but he just can’t remember. He begs under his breath and let’s the tears burn until there are no more. 

He holds the compasses close to his chest and rocks back and forth in the empty house.

He can’t hear it over his own panic, but the soft cries echo over the area combined with many others. 

A ghost smiles sadly at a pair of gravestones on a hill that just last week was only one, and before that was a well loved bench.

Puffy and Sam mourn the loss of these poor boys.

Philza isolates and goes numb to anyone’s offer of help or comfort.

Technoblade turns what could be considered grief into rage and ignores the ache in his chest by grinding and killing anything in his path.

Ranboo grieves over things he can’t remember.

He clutches the compasses with all the strength he has left until he falls asleep. When he wakes up he doesn’t know why there are marks down his face or why his jacket is heavier.

Ranboo doesn’t remember.

And the needles continue to spin.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I’m always in pain over these kids, so you will too.


End file.
